Here’s a little parlour game, or a perplexing pub quiz question. What connects Dawn French, Joanna Lumley, AL Kennedy, Frankie Boyle, James Acaster and Monica Heisey? I shan’t keep you waiting. They have all endorsed Josie Long’s story collection: “Read these stories NOW”, “Miraculous”, “Read them immediately”, “Hilariously cynical”, “All the cynicism I have acquired gets replaced by the enthusiasm”, “Hilarious and incisive”. I impute no bad faith to the blurbers, since it is an intriguing and finely-wrought book. But the hype overwhelms the complexity of it.

I saw Josie Long performing her stand-up in Edinburgh. I was sufficiently impressed to see her the following year as well. It was affable rather than acerbic; and if I had a criticism it would be that there was a whimsical “nice to be nice” vibe about it all, to quote both Dylan Thomas and the chief in M*A*S*H. These stories are anything but. There is an anger, indeed a justifiable anger, which seethes across it.

There is a point in one story, “Volunteering”, which is wryly askance about Long’s now double career. “I like this version of her. I like it so much better than when she found improv, and talked to everyone about how life was also improv, and kept discussing the details and rules of specific improv games to me until I felt like a coward for not shouting that I do not and will not ever give a f*** about improv”. Long’s comedy always seemed more crafted than off the cuff, but that exchange between supposed friends has an iciness that is markedly different from her stage persona.

Her characters feel the weight of the world on their shoulders. From a woman who sees an ex-partner on a poster and defaces it, to another inundated by online gossip and gripes, to a guru slash influencer slash con-artist, these are all fractured individuals who are “just about managing” to deal with relentless reality. It is easy to see why AL Kennedy, an erstwhile stand-up as well as a writer, thought it worth praising.

One of the noteworthy features is the use of found texts. So, “Forgetting” uses quotes from the activist Jonathan Moses, “The Patron Saint Of Lost Causes” is prefaced by a snippet from Greta Thunberg, and another uses Instagram messages from two sources, both about coercive control. It is not in any way, shape or form an easy read. Part of the strategy seems to be to insist that this is not “made up stuff”, but is happening to real people in the real world.

The ire runs like acid into the rivers. “No, f*** them all. F*** them all! Burn it! Burn Westminster to the f***ing ground! Why hasn’t one single person taken a baseball bat to even one of them? Burn it!” “I look at maps of the world and where half of it is dark red. I see the government react with barbarism and I try to protest. Every news article is the start of a disaster movie, but it just keeps on coming”. In some ways it does seem that controversial has become the new conventional, that outrage has become the default setting.

Polemic is all well and good, but what is of true value here is the poetry of it. The best stories are the quietest. In the final story, “I Don’t Know”, which is a slightly zany take on parenthood, the narrator says “Enough will be alright to keep going. And what’s with ‘alright’ anyway? How drab. Enough will be wonderful”. The wonders of Long’s stories are not always wonderful. We might wonder about how men can act with callous impunity and self-regard. We can wonder about whether teenage decisions were wise decisions. Those are the kind of moral questions that good writing addresses.

There is a comedic snap to Long’s writing, even when the shades are more charcoal than pastel. The opening story begins with “‘You really want to kill your dad?’ Amber says. ‘No!’ God, I panic so quickly I can’t breathe. ‘My stepdad.’” Then the dropped mic: “Right.” It is a smart use of misdirection, upended expectation, then sudden bluntness. Even the title of the collection has a kind of performative quality – say it aloud and it seems easy enough – but you can’t exactly say it like What We Talk About When We Talk About Love or All The Good People I’ve Left Behind. It will be interesting to see what Long does next, because she clearly has talent. There are stories here that are experimental and cutting, and a little more of that would be welcome. Although – and I always read every page – the acknowledgments end: “thank you to every landlord, misogynist, prick and Tory who inspired the villains. One day we will win and you will love it and it will be very nice indeed”. I’ll hold my breath.

Because I Don’t Know What You Mean And What You Don’t, by Josie Long, Canongate, £16.99

Book review: Because I Don’t Know What You Mean And What You Don’t, by Josie Long